


Vector Calculus

by Reynier, secace



Series: Caffè Arturiano [6]
Category: Arthurian Literature - Fandom, Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Canon-Atypical STEM Bros, Gen, and doing mild crime, its just two annoying bastards being rude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:54:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24307777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reynier/pseuds/Reynier, https://archiveofourown.org/users/secace/pseuds/secace
Summary: “No, no.” Lamorak spread his hands. “I’m picturing it now-- you could do pink. That would really be a statement, don’t you think?”“If you don’t shut up right now I’m going to push you off this roof and then I’ll get arrested for murder as well as theft,” said Aggravaine, but the adrenaline relief meant he sounded less pointed than he normally might.The effect was, as he perhaps now should have predicted, more delighted amusement than offence. “Wow. Lockpicking, murder, Vector Calc. What don’t you do?”Whatever the hell this is, Agravaine thought with a mental scowl. His face wasn't quite on the same page, and was painted with a hesitant half-smile.
Series: Caffè Arturiano [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017424
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Vector Calculus

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo hewwo me (secace) and rey (gawain-in-green) wrote this one. we were trying to let agravaine have a good day but he ended up miserable for a lot of it anyway. but an attempt was certainly made lol enjoy

The asshole who sat behind him in MATH 223 Vector Calculus wouldn’t leave  him alone. Aggravaine had tried to take the most winding and circuitous route he could to the dining commons in the hopes that the guy-- whose name he pretended not to know was Lamorak-- would find something more interesting than bothering him. But today was not his lucky day. 

He was making small talk, or something, but whatever he was doing Agravaine was wary. People, as a rule, did not talk to him unless they wanted something, or were making fun of him, or both. So as he elected, uncommented upon, to go around the quad adding two blocks to the walk, he waited for the other shoe to drop.

“I think Troy’s a shit professor, to be honest,” the guy was saying as they extraneously circumnavigated a palm tree. “Like, obviously I know how to do this stuff, but like, that’s cause I had a great AP Calc teacher. It’s the other students I’m worried about. Don’t you think?”

Aggravaine tried not to look as though he wanted to punch him.  _ Deep breaths _ , he thought to himself,  _ it’s not a crime to reference your AP Calc class every three minutes.  _ “I don't know,” he said, trying to sound casual. “I didn’t bother with AP Calc and I’ve gotten all of it pretty easily.”

A hit, a very palpable hit.

“Well, yeah. I just meant, like, other people. He just doesn't explain things well,” Lamorak floundered.

“That’s what Google’s for,” muttered Aggravaine. The dining commons loomed ahead. He quickly scanned his memory for the worst possible place to get food. Surely if he picked  _ Vegan Delight _ for dinner, there was no possible way Lamorak would follow. Right? “Do you have another class after this? Somewhere you should be getting to?”

The hopeful note in his voice must not have been too noticeable, because Lamorak just shrugged, looking relieved to escape the topic he himself had brought up. “Nope, done for the day. Thought I’d get dinner.”

The open-ended-ness was haunting. The unspoken second sentence was a herd of elephants crossing the alps to crowd the hall and trumpet his social failings.

“Oh, nice.” It wasn’t nice.

“Yeah,” said Lamorak, and good grief, he was literally doing that ridiculous arm-stretching thing that annoying bosses did on sitcoms. “Generally on Thursday evenings I have… SMEE.”

Against his better judgement, Aggravaine glanced at him quizzically. “Smee?”

“Yeah,” said Lamorak, and paused dramatically again. “...SMEE.”

“What the fuck is SMEE?”

“Society for Math, Engineering and Economics,” Lamorak explained, in a “wow, you didn’t know that?” tone of voice that made Agravaine want to commit acts of violence.

“Oh,” he said, because the alternative was getting arrested for assault, “is that, like, an offshoot of the men’s rights activism club?”

There was a pause. Then against all expectations, Lamorak revealed a shred of self-awareness, and laughed. “Harsh.”

Well, there went his hope of antagonizing Lamorak into leaving. With a sigh, Aggravaine resigned himself to a dinner of unflavoured lettuce with one slice of potato on top. The vegan food probably wouldn’t even chase him away, not with his luck. “I’m going to  _ Vegan Delight _ ,” he announced miserably. “Nice chatting with you.”

“Oh, I know someone who's working there right now, I’ll go say hi.”

“Great!” Agravaine said, putting perhaps too much faux-pep into it and coming off slightly manic. Then his eyes, desperately searching for an escape, caught the vending machines. “Actually, now that I think about it, I-- I have to study for hours tonight, I think I’m just gonna load up on snacks from the vending machine and leave.”

He was too busy congratulating himself to hear whatever Lamorak said in response, and was even too relieved at finding this escape to be annoyed when he was followed to the vending machines. There was not much that looked appetizing. A couple of shelves of rice krispies that looked as though they had been cast in plastic from a brick mold, some Cheezits, a lot of disgusting candy bars. Then his eyes settled on the beef jerky. It had to be palatable, right? It was just beef, jerkied. Besides, Lamorak couldn’t exactly make fun of him for getting  _ beef jerky.  _ That was a totally manly snack. Ignoring whatever one-sided conversation was happening next to him, he jabbed in the appropriate numbers and shoved a fiver into the petulant machine. 

It made the standard rattling and humming noises. Then it made the nonstandard rattling and humming noises. Then, more worryingly, it ceased making rattling and humming noises, unaccompanied by the dull thud of success. He held perfectly still for a second like a prey animal. A moment passed and, face completely blank, he checked the tray. It was empty. The universe was a cruel and uncaring place. 

“Damn,” said Lamorak, who had apparently emerged from his own little Lamorak-world long enough to register the issue, “they done robbed you, my bro.”

“Are you being ironic or do you actually think you talk like that?” Agravaine asked before he could stop himself. “Uh. Sorry.” When there was no response for several seconds, he craned his neck awkwardly up from his position crouched next to the vending machine tray. 

Lamorak was doubled over laughing. “Epic,” he said eventually, although what exactly was epic was not clear. “Sorry about your beef jerky. Life’s tragic.”

It was probably sympathetic. Unfortunately, very few people had been sympathetic to Aggravaine in his life, and so he was not inclined to take anything unsalted. Lamorak was just the right edge of patronizing to give him the motivation to do something very dumb indeed, which was glance around the dining commons to make sure no security guards were near and then fish in his pocket for his keychain. 

When Aggravaine had entered high school, he and Mordred had taught themselves to pick locks. It had started as something of a joke, but as it turned out there were benefits to being able to break into people’s lockers. Not that Aggravaine ever used those benefits. He wasn’t Mordred. Still, his keychain had several things on it that were not strictly speaking keys, but which served a similar purpose. 

Lamorak was the opposite of alarmed by this development. “Oh, fucking nice.” He crouched down next to Agravaine to watch, which was totally not suspicious at all. Agravaine ignored him, and after a minute or so the cheap lock clicked and the silver panel swung open.

“You think you could get me a Twix while you’re already in there?” Lamorak asked offhandedly. From his expression, though, he was clearly quite impressed.

Agravaine emptied the frankly pitiful earnings into his pocket, peeling off a dollar and twenty-five cents and handing it to Lamorak. “Get one yourself.”

“It’s broken,” said Lamorak, although he still accepted the money. “Come on, how hard can it be to get the main panel open?”

Starting to get mildly anxious, Aggravaine glanced around again. No one was watching. It couldn’t hurt, right? He shut the cash box just in case and turned his attention to the lock on the larger vending machine door. He had almost managed to jimmy it open when a cough sounded behind him. 

“Hey,” said a rough, middle-aged voice, “what do you two think you’re--”

Instinct kicked in. Without sparing a glance for Lamorak, he grabbed his backpack from the floor beside him and bolted to the side. Out the main dining hall, to the right, left by the bathrooms-- he charted out the course in his head. Vaguely, he was aware of footsteps sounding behind him, although whether they belonged to Lamorak or the security guard he didn’t know.

Agravaine found himself, as he so often did, wishing that whatever power made him basically invisible would stop selectively cutting out at inconvenient moments. There were definitely multiple pairs of footsteps flagging him, and at least one of them was from the guard, who was yelling at him to stop. His only blessing was that yelling and puffing were not conducive to running quickly, and so he and the person who could only be Lamorak managed to pull ahead enough that they had several seconds to spare after rounding the corner of Modern Languages. 

Pausing to catch a modicum of breath, he spun around. It was indeed Lamorak. Aggravaine took a small amount of satisfaction in seeing that he looked quite out of sorts. Clearly attendees of SMEE were not used to sprinting at full-tilt across campus. 

“Fuck,” wheezed Lamorak, stumbling to a halt. “What do we do?”

It was late afternoon. The doors inside would probably be locked, but the stairwell wasn’t. “Follow me,” he said, and took off again up the stairs. One flight, two flights, and he reached the landing that let onto the second floor. There was a row of ornamental potted trees on one end that had been placed there to block the view of the infamous Psychology building across the courtyard. The side effect of this was that it also handily blocked the view of the first-floor roof. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” hissed Lamorak, screeching to a halt behind him. 

Aggravaine pointed down. “It’s only a couple meters,” he said. Then he stilled. “Can you hear the guard?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Lamorak ran a hand through his hair. “Do we jump? Are you telling me we’re gonna fucking jump off the landing?”

“It’s literally two meters,” said Aggravaine, shoving leafy branches aside. “Don’t worry about it. Just follow me.”

_ That doesn't sound like me, _ he thought distantly. But some deeply buried competitive streak was making a sudden and not unwanted appearance. Whatever pretence of confidence was asserting itself, it was apparently convincing, because Lamorak followed him.

Of the actual event, little could be said except that it was anticlimactic. They really hadn’t far to fall at all, so much that fall seemed a rather dramatic word to use for what was at most a descent. The realization struck them both after a surprising moment, and a slightly sheepish chuckle was shared. 

They waited for a minute, seeing if the guard would-- well, neither was sure. Call out, perhaps, or somehow guess where they had disappeared to. He didn’t. 

“So. I guess I’ll just never go back to the dining hall.” Agravaine awkwardly shoved his hands in his pockets and winced when they brushed against the cash.

“I mean,” Lamorak said thoughtfully, “I don't think he actually saw your face. I know he didn’t see mine. Cause he kept yelling at me to turn around so he could see my face.”

“I guess,” said Agravaine, who never bet against the likelihood of things going badly for him, and not without reason. 

A sly smile spread across Lamorak’s face. “Well, if you’re that worried about being recognized, you could always dye your hair. Something real funky, maybe.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“No, no.” Lamorak spread his hands. “I’m picturing it now-- you could do pink. That would really be a statement, don’t you think?”

“If you don’t shut up right now I’m going to push you off this roof and then I’ll get arrested for murder as well as theft,” said Aggravaine, but the adrenaline relief meant he sounded less pointed than he normally might.

The effect was, as he perhaps now should have predicted, more delighted amusement than offence. “Wow. Lockpicking, murder, Vector Calc. What don’t you do?”

_ Whatever the hell this is,  _ Agravaine thought with a mental scowl. His face wasn't quite on the same page, and was painted with a hesitant half-smile. “SMEE.”

“Hey,” said Lamorak, his tone mock-offended, “what do you have against SMEE?”  
“You’re in it, for one.”

“What do you have against me? I’m a flawless specimen of humanity.”

Aggravaine rolled his eyes. “The first thing you ever said to me was ‘hey, aren’t you that sexy Instagram mom’s kid?’”

“I think it was a fair question,” Lamorak argued. “Which you never actually answered. I'm still waiting.”

“Seriously. Right off the roof. I have no morals, I would do it.” 

Jabbing one finger down, Lamorak swivelled so that he was sitting cross-legged by the edge. “Come on then. Come on, Mr Roof Murder, I dare you. Push me off this roof.”

“Nope, you can’t bait me. I'll wait until you aren't expecting it. Years from now, you’ll think you’re safe, and be hanging out on a roof, and then--” He waved his hand, imagination failing. “Whatever. Anyway, shut up.”

“I see, I'm a hunted man,” Lamorak said, grinning. “Never a moment without you haunting my mind.” 

“Don’t worry.” Aggravaine felt himself inexplicably warming to the jest. “You’ll get your revenge when you come back to haunt me as a ghost. It’ll be really tragic and stuff. Very Shakespearean. How does that sound?”

“Haunting you for all eternity? It sounds great.”

“I--” There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in Lamorak’s voice. Agravaine wasn’t quite sure what to do with that. “Great. It’s a--” he quickly rethought his word choice. “It's a plan.” 

After several seconds of silence-- partially awkward, partially companionable-- Lamorak peered down at the courtyard below. “I don’t hear anyone,” he said. “Think it’s safe to sneak down?”

“Probably.” Pushing himself to standing, Aggravaine hoisted himself back up over the balustrade to the second-floor landing. Lamorak followed. It seemed to be becoming a habit.

“Well,” said Lamorak, as they made their cautious way back down to the courtyard, “that was fun. We should do this more often. I call your mother sexy, you threaten to kill me, we run from security guards-- it’s a great system.”

“Yeah, uh, let’s not repeat those bits,” said Aggravaine. His usual nerves were starting to make a reappearance now that the thrill of sprinting had worn off. “Let’s just stick to vector calc.”

Lamorak elbowed him. “You know,” he drawled, “I do need to look for a tutor.”

“What about your great AP Calc teacher?” Agravaine asked, a little thrown by the gesture.

“Never once threatened to murder me. What’s the point?” 

The last rays of the sun glinted from the horizon at the west end of the quad. “You don’t seem like you need help with math,” said Aggravaine dubiously. 

“It’s bluster, my dude. Bluster is the gilt on the gold statue that is Lamorak Gallis. It’s a pretty good statue, though, right?”

_ What the fuck?  _ thought Aggravaine. “Uh. Whatever. I kind of figured. Mediocre statue.”

“Oof. Like one of those shitty ones without arms?” he asked, sounding amusingly close to legitimate hurt.

Agravaine shrugged. He’d lost both track of and interest in the metaphor. “I guess. I’ll talk to you next class, if you’re serious.” 

“Yeah, no totally. Good, cool.” He paused a beat, then repeated. “Cool.” 

This was fine. This was normal. This was, as Lamorak said, cool. “I still fucking hate you, though.”

“It’s fine,” said Lamorak, “I’m very popular and generally beloved. The mean review of me is still very good, you can hate me if you like. I’m generous like that.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s so kind.”

The last sliver of sun disappeared over the horizon. “Yeah, yeah. That was fun, Aggs. Catch you next time.”

“What the fuck did you just call me?”

“Aggs.” Lamorak paused and glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. “Isn’t that your nickname? I thought I heard someone at the cafe call you that.”

“Yeah, you heard my brother call me that. Are you my brother?”

“I really hope not,” he said earnestly.

“Yeah. So you can call me Agravaine, because that’s my name. Nice try, though.” He abated, guiltily, “I mean, keep at it, maybe eventually.”

“I’ll make it, I'm very competitive,” Lamorak reassured him, looking pleased to have been presented with a goal. 

“Yeah, alright, good luck,” Agravaine said, and if he was smiling that was his business and no one else had to know about it. 

“Alright,” said campus security office head Captain Leodagan, neatly aligning the forms in his hands, “so we’re looking for a medium-height kid with brown hair and a hoodie? That’s helpful. That’s real helpful.”

“Sorry, sir,” Officer Calogrenant said, still recovering from his impromptu run. “Not much I could do.”

“What about the security cameras?”

“Haha, sir.”

Captain Leodagan scowled. The underfunding was beginning to be a serious hamper to campus operations. “Well, start asking around, I guess. Not like there’s anything better to concern ourselves with.”

But the next day the maths building caught fire, and the matter was dropped.


End file.
